by C. Ellsworth
Papa gave her a weak smile and turned toward the door. “Everything will be all right, Addy. Everything will be all right.” Then he disappeared through the doorway.
Chapter 5
Maggie pulled the wagon along the bumpy road toward the square, the high sun finally lending some warmth to the air. Addy rode on the outside of the bench, opposite Papa, with Gevin in the middle. Gevin was quiet again today—he had been since Addy’s rescue—but was he bothered by her ordeal in Old Town, or was it just his sickness? Papa had told him only that she had had an accident there, but Gevin seemed to sense that he wasn’t being told the whole story. Her brother was smart—smart, despite his challenges.
What had happened to that little boy in Old Town? She had pressured Papa to ask around in the days that followed her return—and he finally relented—but not one person in town was missing a child. How was that possible?
Raucous laughter broke the quiet air, along with the loud rumble of wheels from behind. Papa jerked the reins, steering Maggie to the shoulder of the road just in time for an ox-drawn wagon to roar by. Alem Daughtry hooted from that wagon, snapping his own reins to urge a horned and black-furred Gary to even greater speeds. And as they passed, Thom and Chance—from their seats in the back—laughed and pointed.
Papa heaved a sigh. He had tried to talk to their papa on a few occasions about their behavior, but Glad Daughtry was just as immature as his boys. Addy narrowed her eyes. Someone should take a switch to those three, all of them! What was their hurry anyway? They actually seemed eager to get to the Proving! Addy didn’t need to worry about the Proving—not until next year—but this would be, what, Alem’s third time?
Papa clicked his tongue at Maggie and steered the wagon back onto the road. “No candles alight upstairs,” he muttered.
A small smile creeped onto Addy’s lips. No candles, indeed.
Glancing down, Addy frowned and pulled her hand away from her arm, balling both hands into fists in her lap. She had been scratching absently at the sores again. After a couple of weeks of wearing Erabelle’s stinky ointment, the wounds were mostly healed—leaving only rough, red patches—but, oh, how they itched! Especially the one on her shoulder, her mark.
She heaved a sigh. Think of something else.
Papa and Gevin were dressed today in their usual attire of plain-colored, woolen shirts and pants, but Addy had chosen a dress usually reserved for special occasions, like dances and holiday celebrations. It was bright yellow with puffy shoulders, and sleeves that ended in lace just above her elbows. The hem at her ankles was embroidered with small white roses, and the neckline fell to just the right level. It was an odd choice for a Proving, but it was the first opportunity she’d had to put recent events behind her.
It wasn’t long before the wagon finally came to a stop. They were sitting outside the square, the murmur of the crowd filling the air. Most of the townspeople appeared to be present, all milling about at the large wooden stage that had been erected to the left of the Proving Stone.
With Gevin perched atop Papa’s shoulders, the three of them joined the crowd, finding a place in the front where Addy had a clear view of the dark, square object. The iron fencing that had surrounded it the day before had been removed, allowing anyone to approach it. None did, of course; the thing always seemed to radiate something . . . unnatural.
“Hey, Addy!”
Addy turned, and Eddis—accompanied by his parents—emerged from the crowd. Eddis was barely Addy’s height, his head topped with dark, unkempt hair. His skin was a couple of shades too light, which had earned him ridicule on occasion by bullies and simpletons. Eddis had been a friend since they were kids, but they hadn’t spent much time together lately. Catching frogs at the pond just wasn’t as fun as it used to be.
Eddis stepped up to her, his mouth stretching into a wide grin. “I like your dress.”
Addy returned the smile. “Thank you.”
Papa stepped forward to greet Eddis’s parents. Mama used to be such good friends Mrs. Wheedle. They used to see each other every day, which is how Addy and Eddis had become friends.
Eddis continued. “It’s nice out today, a good day for a gathering. Do you think there will be food? Maybe Mr. Quinton will play a tune on his lute. I like your dress.” Again, with the dress? He must be nervous for some reason.
Addy gave a soft sigh as Eddis rambled on, his words becoming a distant buzz in her ear. There was a group entering the square, members of the Guard, and by the looks of it, all of them were present. Was anyone left on the wall? What if the skeg . . . ? Never mind.
Mayor Aldis finally stepped forward onto the stage—wife gliding at his side. The mayor was dressed in a coat of fine-spun, burgundy wool, white lace decorating the neck and cuffs of the long sleeves. It barely contained his large girth, the gaudy gold buttons down the middle threatening to pop off at any moment. His matching pants came down just below his knees, where white stockings then descended into his shoes of polished black leather. The gold, oversized buckles there were more for decoration than anything. Such a waste.
The mayor’s wife was nearly as large and dressed to match, her long burgundy dress decorated with golden embroidery at the hem and bodice, with a neckline cut low enough to reveal a generous amount of bosom.
The mayor gestured toward the crowd. “Welcome, good townsfolk!”
Addy breathed a sigh. This was the dull part of the Proving.
“Today marks the five-hundred-and-twelfth Cycle, the day we choose the champions who will go bravely into danger so that we might persevere. . . .” The mayor’s words became a distant hum. It was the same speech as last Cycle. It was the same speech as every Cycle.
Her gaze shifted toward the members of the Guard, nearly thirty in all. She knew many of their names—Lance, Sorsia, Liah, Traizen, Robert—but they, like all the guardsmen, spent the bulk of their time in the barracks, a place Addy had never seen past the entrance.
The mayor paused. Funny how his silence drew more attention than his tired speeches. Addy probably should have been listening closer, though; for, he was now eyeing each one in the audience with a challenging stare. What was he doing?
Finally, he spoke. “It is true that the skeg have managed to get inside the wall.”
Addy’s stomach twisted. Skeg? Now, that wasn’t part of his usual Proving Day speech. Murmurs rose from the people. Why was he telling everyone about skeg? Was he trying to spread fear?
Eddis let out a hum and gave her a sidelong glance. Some of the people turned to cast Addy glances as well, and her face grew abruptly hot. Everyone knew. Of course they knew! A story like that traveled quickly.
“You all know the truth. I will not fill your heads with fluff and stories meant to calm children at bedtime. Every day the Twisted Lands grow closer. Every passing moment the Waste expands. We may not be long for this world, compared to those who came before us, but we cannot despair; for, the moment we do, we are lost.”
The mayor eyed each person in the crowd again, pausing to pace back and forth to meet each gaze. “The Lord of Light knows our plight.” He opened his arms to the sky. “He must have a plan for us. If he did not, we would not be here on this fine day. I believe it is a test of our resolve. And if we pass this long and arduous test, we will see a better day.”
Now the speech was sounding familiar again. Addy drew in a breath and let it out slowly. I don’t care about this! What’s being done about the skeg?
After another dramatic pause, the mayor continued. “To add to our challenges, we have a . . . barbaric people who hound us constantly, steal our cattle and our food. . . . Why does the Lord not wipe them from the face of this land, you ask? Why? It is because they are a test for us as well.”
Grumbles of disagreement rose up among the people, but the mayor silenced them with an upraised hand. “We cannot rely on the Lord of Light to rid us of this scourge, this pestilence on the land. It is our challenge, our test, and we will fight for our right to live with
every ounce of strength we have! There will be no doubt in their primitive minds that we will not sit idly by while they take from us what is ours.”
Some of the people in the crowd cheered and pumped their fists in the air. Others grumbled warily, shaking their heads as they talked with spouses and friends. It would be a good thing, though, to be rid of the skeg once and for all. A very good thing.
The mayor drew himself up, tucking his thumbs beneath a belt that lie mostly hidden beneath his protruding belly. “I will tell you this.” He started pacing again, the heels of his polished shoes thumping on the wooden stage. “The Guard will be doubled. They will make patrols more frequently through Old Town. And should any skeg dare to enter the walls, we will deal with them swiftly to show them we will not tolerate it any longer!”
The crowd broke into cheers again, much louder this time, and Addy’s heart leaped. Finally! She could relax now. The skeg wouldn’t be coming to steal her away in the night! Praise the Light!
The Mayor paused, his round face turning somber. “Good people . . .” His eyes scanned the crowd. Oh dear! Was he going to bring up her trip to Old Town now? Addy’s face flushed hot. There were already too many half-hidden glances at her.
The mayor continued. “I have consulted with Phineus at great length about this Cycle’s Proving.”
Addy frowned. So this wasn’t about Old Town?
The mayor’s gaze dropped to his feet. “You may have noticed that, over the years, the number of Proven has dwindled. Three Cycles ago we had twelve; the Cycle after that, we had six. Last Cycle we had three.”
Addy pursed her. The mayor was rarely serious. And what was this about consulting with Phineus? About the only thing that bent, old man was good for, aside from stroking the mayor’s ego, was knowing more about the Tower than anyone else.
“Because of this . . .” The mayor gave a long, hesitant pause. “ . . . we have decided that we have no choice but to lower the age limit again on those who must take the test.”
Addy’s heart seized. What? No! That meant she would have to participate in the Proving today! What if she somehow passed? She was too young to travel into the Waste! How was this possible?
Gasps and cries erupted from the people in the crowd, followed by shouts of “that’s too young!” and “there must be another way!” and “I will not allow my baby to take the test!”
The mayor stood with hands outstretched, pleading for calm. “Please, friends. If we cannot find a suitable candidate to perform the Affirmation, what hope do we have? Every Cycle the numbers get smaller. And I fear that one day, despite our efforts, we will have no one to make the journey. These are desperate times, and if we are to survive, we must do whatever is necessary.”
Addy’s knees wobbled. Her heart sunk into her stomach. She should have had another year before she had to face this! It was like preparing yourself to jump into an icy pond, only to have someone shove you in from behind!
Eddis was strangely quiet beside her. His face seemed to sag, his eyes staring blankly. He would have to take the test as well.
Papa put a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave her a small, unconvincing smile. “Everything will be all right, Addy.” His voice was barely heard through the commotion in the crowd. “You’re strong, like your mama. Stronger.”
Despite the mayor’s pleas for calm, the crowd grew louder still, more angry. Many were now threatening violence, shaking their fists in the air. Mamas clung to their children, weeping openly. The noise. The chaos. The crowd seemed to press in on Addy. I need to get out of here! Preston Bagely scrambled onto the stage, and an instant later Guard Captain Aeric was there as well, restraining him until two other guardsmen appeared and dragged him away.
The chaos only grew, though, and the mayor retreated to the back of the stage, his wife clinging desperately to his shoulder for safety. Aeric shouted for calm, but even he, with his deep growl of a voice, could not stem the flow of anger. All around her was chaos, faces filled with hate, and fists shaking. Images flashed suddenly through her mind: pale, disembodied arms, clawed and flailing, searching. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Her breath came in short, labored gasps. Black clouds. Skeletal faces.
Bang!
Addy’s heart lurched into her throat. There were startled cries from the masses before everything froze and fell silent. Aeric stood tall and imposing on the stage, his right hand holding a small, metallic device, from which emitted a stream of white smoke. A gun, they called it. He watched the people before him, scowling, the muscles in his whiskered jaw flexing.
The Guard Captain lowered the device slowly, his eyes daring anyone to make trouble. “The mayor has spoken!” His voice was an angry growl. “There will be no further debate!”
And that was that. Addy sucked air into her lungs, her heart still pounding. The people around her slowly recovered their composure, and the few that had fainted were helped to their feet. Then the square filled with the buzz of talk again, but it remained civil this time.
Aeric turned to the mayor with a questioning glance, and the mayor—visibly shaken and face pale—gave a curt nod. Aeric then tucked the gun into his belt and left the stage.
After a long pause to undoubtedly recover his composure, Mayor Aldis stepped forward and put on a smile. Then he opened his arms to the crowd. “Now, enough of this gloomy talk! Bring out the food and the drink, and let the Proving Day festivities begin!”
Chapter 6
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Eddis bent over with hands on knees and drew in several heavy breaths.
Addy’s stomach seemed to writhe in her belly as well. This was really happening. She would soon be taking the test at her first Proving!
To her right, a group of people started to form around Mr. Clemmens, the pub owner. The people in the group all held up small wooden chips while shouting for the man’s attention. Some of those chips would be marked with symbols of chickens or cows, some with hammers, and some with wheat or apples. Ian Clemmens, his stark white hair a scattered mass atop his head, gathered them up and stuffed them into the pocket of his dirty apron before scribbling the names of their former owners in his book.
Ian took those chips as bets on everything from who would be the first called for the Proving, to who would be the first to fail. And when the names of the potential Proven were called, even more bets would be taken. Many found enjoyment in that game, but some of those people weren’t going to be so happy when they lost a month’s worth of food, or had to spend a whole week slaving to pay off debts.
Old Phineus, bent with age, hobbled onto the stage to join the mayor and his wife, his wooden cane making hollow noises on the wooden surface. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight, and his gray-white beard practically dragged the ground at his feet. As he walked, he held up the hem of his dark red robes, the cloth embroidered with strange symbols or letters, an odd thing to put on one’s clothing when the mere mention of magic might earn a reprimand.
“Good day everyone.” Phineus’s aged voice crackled. Some of the people in the crowd responded with greetings of their own, while some chuckled softly to themselves or with their neighbors. Phineus could sometimes appear a bit addled in his old age, making him the subject of the occasional joke or jeer, but his eyes always seemed bright and alert.
Phineus reached slowly into a pocket and pulled out a pair of spectacles that he placed carefully on the bridge of his nose. Then he reached into another pocket and pulled out a small book, which he proceeded to open and flip through casually—very casually—while looking at it down the length of his long nose. Someone in the crowd made a snoring sound, which drew another wave of chuckles, but if the sage noticed, he didn’t give any outward signs.
When Phineus finally found the page he was looking for, he turned his eyes back to the crowd, glancing at the book as he spoke. “As is customary . . .” His words crawled out. “the Proving . . . will take place in order of oldest to youngest, starting with the twenty-five-year-olds
. . . and ending with the sixteen-year-olds.”
Ah, yes, oldest to youngest. That meant Addy’s group would be waiting the longest. She let out a frustrated sigh.
Phineus licked his lips while he read, his knobby hand reaching up repeatedly to push his spectacles back into place. “Uh . . . when your name is called . . . please step forward to the Proving Stone . . . and place your hand . . . in the location indicated on the top. When you do this . . . you will feel . . . a small shock.”
Laughter erupted from the crowd. The shock—which was not small, by anyone’s account—was what these people were expecting and hoping for, especially those handing their chips to Mr. Clemmens. It was a sport to them, but it wasn’t something to laugh about! She had seen what those poor people went through.
Her stomach did another three somersaults and then a backflip.
Eddis let out a soft groan. “It’s the shock that kills you, you know.” His brows furrowed. “I heard you can sometimes smell cooked pork when it happens to you.”
“Eddis, stop!” Addy growled. “I don’t want to hear any more about people dying from the Proving!”
Some of the people around them turned to look, but their glances were brief. She was being too hard on Eddis, but with the Proving and Phineus’s excruciatingly slow talking, and . . . Old Town . . . If only her stomach would stop twisting into knots!
Eddis’s expression went from surprise to hurt to solemn anger in a heartbeat. He turned a scowling face to the ground and fell silent. She should apologize, but with that growl still lurking in the back of her throat, she’d probably just make things worse.
Phineus waited for the laughter and talking to die down, but when the commotion went on for a while, he tapped his cane loudly on the stage. “As I was saying . . . you will feel a small shock, at which time the hand symbol . . . will turn red, but it shouldn’t be harmful.” Shouldn’t be harmful? That didn’t sound very reassuring! “And if you are so inclined . . . you may wish to test your tolerance by . . . holding on for longer than is necessary. At your own risk, of course.”
